Thankful she wasn’t lying on his bruised shoulder, he put an arm around her as they rested through the rainfall. To pass the time under the relentless storm with the warmth of her lantern, Ryder pulled out the adventurer’s journal from his satchel and read passages to Bell. Orange lettering glowed when Bell’s light touched the parchment.
“That’s why every other year after the month of Marosa brings a reflection of the Era of Panic. Iridescent skies, harsh weather, frenzied animals… and mages.”
“Tsk, I was fine last Aurora. Maybe it felt easier to cast during that time but I felt no significant difference.”
“Your whole body didn’t radiate with a healing aura? You didn’t spring to life every blade of grass you stepped on?”
“No!” she huffed.
Ryder jokingly shook his head, “A shame.”
The dark and cold night grew near, the rest of the party ate their supper separately. Dalon gazed at Bell and Ryder while trying to unseat the stuck crumbs of pine nuts from his teeth. Scoundrel and Durge were bickering about the nutritional value of hardtack or some other trivial matter. And Ryder and Bell continued reading while under the canvas canopy.
“You must really appreciate history, Ryder,” she said.
He perked up from the enticing book and laughed. “I suppose. But I wish I could make my own instead of reading it through old parchment. I want to witness a dragon fall from the heavens in front of me! Visit the Academy! Befriend a giant! Just do…something.”
“Well, you found the right career if you wish for experiences. But you may not wish for the ones that are inevitably forced upon you in this line of work.”
Ryder chuckled, “You did see me at my most wounded after all.”
Bell remembered the exhaustion that took hold of her that night when she removed his curse. “What happened to you two that night? Not often that commoners get enchanted against their will.”
Ryder exhaled and told the tale of stems, slimes, and the three elves that followed. After telling the story, and including a few unnecessary details, he realized that Bell had her eyes closed while exhaling soft and rhythmically. He noticed the rest of the party was asleep too, so he carefully extinguished her lantern and tried his best to lean against the base of the tree without disturbing her.
The rain ceased sometime in the night, leaving only squawking birds and humidity. Ryder dreamt of eating a fresh, warm, lenk tart from Dragon Bakes Bakery, but after swallowing a steaming bite he felt a sting near his neck. The pastry that stuck in his throat felt cold and sharp, similar to the razor’s edge of Dalon’s spear.
The flash of the morning twilight struck Ryder’s eyes when he awoke to the sight of steel pressed to his neck. Bell wasn’t near and Durge and Scoundrel were still asleep.
“Be certain that I will kill you at any moment if you hurt Isabelle. I know your reputation with past party members and I won’t let her succumb to any foul play from you or your companion.”
“How did you—”
“Words spread fast, potion-giver.” Dalon’s fierce eyes pierced Ryder before he lifted his spear and walked away.
Ryder felt the thin stream of liquid reach the collar of his tunic, knowing he’d see crimson on his fingertips as he pressed against his wound. He hastily collected his canvas and prepared for the journey ahead, waking Durge and forgetting to eat his morning meal in the meantime.
The muddied path through the forest reminded Durge and Ryder of their first journey out of Locria 22 days ago.
“How do you fair, Rye?” Durge asked.
“Surviving… so far. Dalon decided to threaten me this morning.”
Durge clicked his tongue, “I noticed. Do you require retaliation, my liege?”
Ryder cracked a smile, “Nay, squire. Best we forget the peasantry.”
“I missed the Posh Prince.”
“Me too, Durge. Me too.”
The humid day brought fog, haze, and sweat-soaked clothing until the afternoon. Once the summer sun melted away the precipitation, the glistening lonely mountain to the northeast dawned upon the party.
“How far away are we, Ryder?” Dalon asked.
He unfurled his map, “15 horizons. Two or three days away from the base of it.”
“Anything noteworthy nearby?” Scoundrel groaned. “Like a bathhouse?”
“The mountain feeds into a lake, perhaps six horizons from here.”
“C’mon Dal, we should rest there for the night!”
Scoundrel grew amazed, “I can wash the dirt out of my tail!”
Dalon grew irritated at the thought of wasting time; but as long as it was during rest, he permitted himself to change the straight eastern course for the evening.
The last beam of sunlight grazed the tip of the mountain. Leaving only a breezy, cold, and dark shadow upon the land. The lake waters chilled the bone to the touch, but that didn’t stop the adventurers from taking a dip or washing their grimey faces.
“I’ll wash later!” Bell exclaimed.
“Aye!” Dalon said, shivering while trying to swiftly clean himself in the water.
Scoundrel filled his waterskin and poured it along his fur. The dirt and tangles vanished with every brush scrub. Durge and Ryder competed with one another on who could last the longest in the icy lake. Their rapid breaths and red skin steamed from them when they exited, agreeing that it was a draw.
Night appeared swiftly but joy and excitement radiated from the party. Dalon made a great campfire near the embankment while everyone was away scrubbing stains from clothes and refilling water. Scoundrel disappeared as usual while the rest of them pitched their tents and ate handfuls of dry provisions.
“What’s that light o’er yonder?” Durge said.
“Scoundrel?” Bell asked.
“With a torch? No. Beasts like him see clearer in the dark than us,” Ryder said.
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Dalon stood, spear in hand, as he watched the two shadowy figures approach closer and closer along the edge of the lake. One led with the touch while the other followed closely behind. The figures seemed shorter than usual in their billowy cloaks. Once neared closer, the party could make out their olive skin tones and scraggly hair. The torchbearer donned an ashy-white beard while the lady behind him bore white braids interlaced with silver rings.
The dwarf was 12 steps away when he said his greetings in a thick and grumbly dwarvish accent.
“Hullo, hullo.”
“Speak common?” Dalon asked.
“Vo, vo.”
The couple looked at one another confused but seemed to be as polite as possible. He pointed at himself and mentioned the name “Korif” while his wife pointed toward herself and mentioned the name “Malomi”. The adventurers did the same and repeated their own names.
Ryder bit his lip trying to remember dwarvish words he studied long ago in his manor. The word for Beast-person… the word for Beast-person.
In a stuttered and awkward speech he said, “Ino kragvel. Morvesh. Drsh.” and gestured that Scoundrel was out in the woods somewhere.
The dwarves looked worried at the nearby forest and took a step closer to the lake.
Ryder clicked his tongue and rubbed his temples, “No, no. Beast-person. Morvesh. Kragvel.”
Malomi chuckled and said the word “Syahkra” slowly.
Either from legitimate remembrance or trying to impress the rest of the party, Ryder snapped his fingers, nodded, and repeated the word over and over.
The adventurers made room for the couple around the fire and shared their unimpressive rations. The couple accepted them graciously and offered a darkened glass bottle. Durge was the first to take a whiff with his smeller. Scents of citrus, sweetness, and alcohol were ever-present.
Durge grew a great smile and poured the liquor in a metal tankard before passing it to other members. It went down smooth but left a burning sensation that clung to the throat.
“Kraglor!” Korif said with a big smile.
The party feigned excitement as they winced and coughed.
“A long ways away—”
A splat of two dead hares fell in Durge’s lap.
“Drinking without me?” Scoundrel said with a bloodstained grin.
Malomi bellowed a frightened screech when they saw the fearsome beast. Ryder repeatedly said “Syahkra” to the woman and gestured that Scoundrel was a friend.
“How swell, two guests to eat my quarry,” the beast said.
“Get the fur out of your teeth and wash your mouth,” Dalon ordered.
While Scoundrel rinsed in the blue lake, Korif pulled out a large dagger and skinned the two hares. Once calm, Malomi pulled an iron pot from her belongings and collected water from the lake, avoiding eye contact with the soggy beast.
After a moment, the pot turned into a rolling boil of dark liquid with floating chunks of meat and spices from Bell’s pack.
“Yahmok! Yahmok!” Korif said, offering bowls and utensils to the party.
Although the meal wasn’t as flavorful as dinners they’ve had in taverns before, it was a warm welcome on the cool night.
“I’m gonna go wash up now, Dal.”
“Alright Iz, just don’t be too far off.”
Hare stew settled in the bellies of all while they rested among the roaring fire. A half-moon laid in the sky, joined by a dazzling array of colorful stars.
“Ease on the booze, oaf. You going to drink the dwarf’s whole bottle?” Ryder asked.
“I just might!”, the oaf exclaimed with a belch.
“Hey plainskins, what’s the worst quest you’ve done so far?” Scoundrel asked.
Ryder thought for a moment, “Maybe—”
“The time we almost got caved in! Or ambushed! or ambushed again!” Durge said.
Ryder shrugged, “They’ve all been pretty bad. You?”
Scoundrel snickered, “Well, I remember a not-so-fond quest I was a part of the first time I joined our lovely healer and leader—”
Dalon gripped his spear.
“But! Don’t judge me harshly on this- I was a part of the Vultures during my early career of questing.”
The name piqued both Ryder and Durge’s interests. “The Vultures were the ones that gave me this wound!” Ryder revealed the bandage on his shoulder.
“Catwood said they were the ones who cut his hand! Why didn’t you reveal this sooner, rogue!” Dalon barked with clenched teeth.
“It must be over an entire winter since I quested with them! And it was only for a few until I left on my own accord. It wasn’t until I realized that they’re no better than highwaymen. They chose me because I had talents- as you all know,” he smirked. “I remember my last quest with them being particularly eventful.”
“What was it? Party killing?” Dalon sternly asked.
Scoundrel shook his head, “I wouldn’t do that unless it was deserved. The last quest I signed with them on was a simple dungeoneering. What I didn’t know was that we’d be graverobbing an entire dwarven burial tomb.” He looked over at the dwarven couple and they seemed oblivious. Korif was sharpening his dagger while Malomi washed out the stew pot.
“No offense to their kind, of course. But after we were done breaking these slabs of stone and yanking these jewels off skeletons, these guardsmen burst through the door and—” Scoundrel started cackling to himself. “I never scurried to Maria so fast to give up 10 shines for failing a quest in my life. Luckily, I profited from the jewels I pocketed but I vowed not to do another with them.”
The party seemed overall expressionless except for Durge who was too drunk to keep his head still and Bell who was away washing.
“How was that your worst quest?” Ryder asked.
Scoundrel still cackled to himself, “Is that what the question was? Oh, Torchsmoke was by far the worst!”
Dalon stood fierce and pointed his spear at the beast.
“It’s true! My most gracious party leader needs to learn to accept his failures, calm his temper, and put the damn spear down!” Scoundrel said.
Dalon readied his spear to skewer the beast through but Ryder hastily gripped it and pushed him away. The exchange of yells echoed across the lake and to the tip of the mountain. The wrath between the two party members heightened as the branches of surrounding trees scraped against one another, seemingly whispering and snarling.
The dwarven couple kept a few steps away from the party and collected their belongings, hoping to find a place of solace in the night. But Korif noticed the lack of wind that could disturb the great oak trees.
“Velmoresh!” he yelled. The party was unable to hear him as the argument continued. “Velmoresh! Velmoresh!”
“Someone shut that damn dwarf up!” Dalon yelled.
“Velmoresh!” Korif screamed once again, pointing toward the forest. The rest of the party hushed as they saw a group of small shadows near the base of the trees.
The dwarven couple sprinted as fast as they could. The sound of dishes rattled in Korif’s pack before a crude arrow struck him, killing him instantly. The back of his skull pooled warm blood into the icy blue lake.
“Goblins!” Dalon shouted, throwing himself and Scoundrel to the bank of the water.
Ryder went into a panic as Durge was in a drunken stupor, unable to stand. Ryder grasped Durge’s white heater shield as he heard the twangs of bow strings and the falling of arrows. Two struck the shield before he dragged Durge to the edge of the lake.
Malomi bellowed and cried while Dalon yelled for his sister.
“Stay down!” Ryder exclaimed.
“Where’s Iz!?” Dalon shouted.
They looked around the lake but outside of the firelight, it was near impossible to see.
Scoundrel crawled further along the side of the embankment to search for her. He saw her white cloak on the ground and in the water he saw the top of her bobbing head.
“She’s in the water, Dal!”
“She’ll freeze if she stays in there!” Ryder said.
“Or picked off from goblins.” Dalon’s eyes were frantic and his breaths were quick and shallow.
“Be calm. We have to leave this embankment and either run and risk being hunted down or face them now and save Bell!”
“Let’s face the little bastards!” Scoundrel said with bared teeth.
“Where’s me mace at?” Durge asked in a grumble. He tried climbing out of the embankment but was pulled to the ground, just in time for arrows to land in front of him.
As they looked over the bank they saw a pair of goblins with large square shields step from the tree line. The wooden shields masked their entire body except for a small eye slit at the top.
“What are they doing, boy?” Scoundrel asked.
Ryder gazed at the pair of goblins shuffling slowly step by step, a splurge of water splashed from behind the shield when the goblin tripped over a root.
“They’re going to extinguish the fire! Dammit! I wish I had my bow.”
Dalon held taut to his spear, “Let’s bring the fire to them! Scoundrel, flank and slay some archers.”
The fur-beast nodded and made his way down the bank, eventually vanishing from sight.
“You ready, hayseed?”
“Aye!” As soon as Ryder answered they both vaulted over the mound of dirt and rushed to the fire. Burning their hands as they reached for branches and flung them at the goblins. One of the shieldbearers erupted in flame while the other dropped his in a panic. Few arrows struck anywhere close to Dalon and Ryder as the flickering branches blinded and revealed the snarling creatures in the woods.
Scoundrel appeared behind three retreating goblins, fearlessness took hold of them as they outnumbered the ferret. Two of them drew their bows while another bore its teeth and charged with a spiked club.
Two thrown daggers met each of the archer’s in the chest while the other goblin was disarmed by Scoundrel’s claws. Ultimate fear consumed the four-step high green creature. The beast bore its own razor maw and sunk them into the neck of the screaming goblin, ripping its throat out.
Able to reach his bow, Ryder shot off three arrows, striking a fleeing goblin. The handful left that escaped would warn their litters for centuries of the bipedal beasts in the area.
As Dalon saw the shadows of retreating goblins he yelled for his sister at the edge of the lake.